


Left Behind

by akamine_chan



Series: Morning Not Yet Broke [2]
Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_snippets, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-12
Updated: 2008-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:06:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bed had grown cold without Fraser's sustaining warmth and so he'd pushed himself to get out of bed, to get moving, to pack up his stuff and go. Back to Chicago, alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Enormously helpful betas by the stupendous Simplystars and the kindly Keerawa. Seriously, these two clarify and focus my writing like no one else can. Thank you, ladies. Any remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Prompt:
> 
>  _And I dealt with this years ago,  
>  I took a hammer to every memento.  
> But image on image like beads on a rosary  
> Pulled through my head as the music takes hold  
> And the sickener hits; I can work till I break,  
> But I love the bones of you—  
> That, I will never escape_   
> **Elbow, "The Bones of You"**

It breaks something inside of Ray when he finds the undershirt that Fraser had left behind.

He'd woken up and had known, instinctively, that Fraser was gone. Gone from his life.

The bed had grown cold without Fraser's sustaining warmth and so he'd pushed himself to get out of bed, to get moving, to pack up his stuff and _go_. Back to Chicago, alone.

He'd taken a quick shower, shivering and numb under the spray, scrubbing at himself roughly to erase the feel of broad, competent hands on his body.

He had avoided looking at his reflection in the cracked mirror.

Instead, Ray had gathered the clothing that had been hastily removed the night before. A flash of memory had hit him, of clumsy touches and desperate kisses, of Fraser arched over him, moaning. He'd closed his eyes, trying to blot out the memories. After shoving his clothes into his duffel bag, he'd looked around one last time and spotted something white peeking out from under the bed. Leaning down, he had slowly pulled out Fraser's undershirt.

Knees wobbly, he'd sat down hard on the edge of the bed, gasping against the sudden flare of pain in his heart.

The cotton shirt was soft in his hands from repeated washings and still carried Fraser's scent—musky and familiar.

Outside, rain patters softly against the motel room windows. The curtain flutters in the cool breeze.

Dropping the shirt, Ray buries his face in his hands, trembling.

-fin-


End file.
